Two days later, following the final performance of The Magic Flute Monsieur Dupoix announced, as the Metropolitan tradition dictated, the next production to the entire company. A collective gasp went up when he revealed that it would be the ballet Giselle. The only people who had known beforehand were himself, Madame Giry, her daughter Meg, Gianna Burnside, and Monsieur Reyer. There was further uproar when he announced that some key casting had already been determined: Meg Giry would play the title role and Gianna Burnside would play Myrta, Queen of the Wilis. He quickly assured the very nervous members of the chorus that they would not be without employment during the next month. Any of the chorus members with dance training were invited to audition for roles in the corps de ballet. Anyone who would not be dancing would be temporarily reassigned for the coming month; some would join the stage crew, others make sets and props, and some of the women would join the costuming team. This juggling of staff would allow the opera to keep down costs and prevent the company from losing any valuable personnel.
Auditions were set to begin the next day but there was little suspense involved since the most crucial casting had been done. There were only two men who could possibly play the Albrecht/Loys and Hilarion, so the competition would simply be who would gain the leading role. Far more interesting would be which of the opera singers would manage to meet Madame Giry's strict standards and find work in the corps or possibly in a minor role. But the main gossip whirling through the building was that the orphaned former dancer, turned chorus member, Gia Burnside would have such a large role. Adrienne Leveau was vocally predicting a disaster but it was noted by many that she herself was planning to audition the next day. Most felt it was sour grapes on her part that Gia had found a way to get the best of her yet again.
To explain why Gia had been cast, Madame Giry explained that she had observed her dancing after hours in one of the practice rooms and felt that with some practice she would make a fine soloist. When Dupoix informed her that Giselle was to be performed, she had immediately thought of Gia to play Myrta. The mixture of half-truths and outright lies was plausible enough to most of the company that there would be no need to explain that the production and the casting had been dictated by the Opera Ghost. In a late night meeting between Dupoix, Reyer, and Madame Giry it had been decided that no mention should be made of the Phantom unless absolutely necessary. Even Meg was left in the dark, only told that she would be playing Giselle and not the reason why.
Gia was astonished that several company members congratulated her on being cast as Myrta. As it turned out, her late night activities had not been as secret as she had imagined. A few of the older chorus members told her they had seen her dancing several years earlier and had thought it was a shame that she was no longer a dancer. Gia thanked them for their words of encouragement and added that her only hope was that she did not embarrass herself or the Metropolitan. She was older now not as nimble as she once was. Her twice a week indulgence could not take the place of regular training.
She was not looking forward to her first practice. The more uncharitable company members would be sure to report her every mistake and misstep. Not to mention the fact her body was not used to constant exercise. Although, she thought with a smile, perhaps her activities with Erik might help in that department. She had to admit that since they began sleeping together her muscles felt more stretched, and she had more energy despite all the physical exertion. Gia doubted that would continue once rehearsals began in earnest. She would be exhausted in the evenings and he would not be. Poor Erik, he was going to be in for a month of frustration! He should have thought of that before he insisted she play such a large role.
She reflected on the night they had spent in her room sleeping side by side and how she had asked him to stay with her. She had cried when he agreed to stay with her. Her feelings toward Erik confused her. There were times when she had been certain it was nothing more than lust, and other times she wanted to throttle him for being so thoughtless. But increasingly whenever he took her in his arms she felt a funny tug on her heart. She looked forward to his visits and her thoughts often strayed to him during the day. Even with her limited experience with men Gia knew that she was falling in love with him. He would break her heart in the end that was certain, she simply would have do her best to keep the full measure of her feelings from him.
Erik might like her, he might even care for her, but she was certain he did not love her, and was not likely to. His feelings toward Christine were still very strong, and there was the very real possibility that she might return his affections once she realized he was alive. She did not want to consider what might happen if Christine rejected him again. However, perhaps now that she had shown him that he was not repulsive to women, he would not have such a violent reaction. If she had done anything to make Erik realize his true worth as a human being then their brief love affair would have done a great deal of good. At least that was what she had been telling herself lately to justify her agreeing to submit to his desire to see her dance.
Gia needed to get her rest. Madame Giry had requested she attend the auditions tomorrow and once those were over, the first rehearsal would begin. Looking at her wardrobe, Gia pulled out the toe shoes that Erik had given her. She had better prepare them for the coming days or else she truly would look a fool during rehearsal. Gia went into her sewing basket, fished out a pair scissors and went to work.
Piquet the head footman brought the packet of letters to the viscomtess on a sterling silver platter. She was seated in the day room which faced east, allowing it to be flooded with sunlight despite the fact it was not yet noon. The interior was elegant and extremely expensive. The master had insisted on only the best for his young wife who often chided him for being too free with his fortune when it came to her. His response was only to laugh and then run out and purchase her yet another pretty bauble. The local jeweler joked he could retire on what he had made in the last two years alone.
The viscomtess was dressed in a dress of light blue peau de soie silk and she was staring out the window, lost in thought. She did not even turn her head when he entered the room. It was only when he gently cleared his throat as he put the tray before her did she say anything to him. She thanked him for the letters, and he withdrew, leaving her alone with them. Piquet knew she would want privacy given that the letters came from Madame Giry and her daughter. Outside of the invitations the young mistress was constantly receiving from the local gentry to attend the latest salons and parties, they were the only letters she had. He reflected her life must be a rather lonely one, but at least she had her son and husband as a comfort. Besides, it was not really his business anyway. A good servant does not dwell on the inner life of his masters.
Christine gently opened the package and was surprised to find three letters rather than the usual two. She then recalled that she had asked Gianna Burnside to write to her, and it would make sense that she would include her letters with Madame Giry's. The first letter was from Meg and it was light and breezy and full of the latest opera gossip. She mentioned that Gianna had gotten to play the role of Papagena when Adrienne Leveau was mysteriously locked in her room. No one had been able to figure out how it had happened, but no one cared much since she was so disagreeable. Meg mentioned that it reminded her of the pranks the Phantom used to play at the Populaire and it had frightened several of the ballet girls.
Christine set the letter down a moment and smiled. It did sound like something Erik would have done. He never could abide performers who were full of themselves. Only he was allowed that luxury.
God, she missed him!
He had been an integral part of her life for a long time, and to have him cut away so quickly had been extremely painful. She had not loved him as he had wanted her to, but she had cared for him a great deal. If it had not been for him, she might have never survived her troubled childhood. There had been times when she had been so alone that her greatest desire had been to fling herself from the top of the building and end her life. But then he would come to her, sing to her, and encourage her to do the same.
The one question that had plagued her in the days following the Don Juan disaster was: Would she have fallen in love with him if not for Raoul? She had certainly felt something for him that first night he revealed himself to her. At the time, her emotions had confused her, but now she knew what it was.
Lust.
The way he had touched her had awakened in her feelings she had not known existed. Christine had not known a great deal about sex, but she had felt his yearning for her from the moment she took his hand. And for a time, she had yearned to be with him. That night as she lay in his bed, she had dreamed of being with him. It had excited her so that somehow she removed her stockings in her sleep. But then next morning she removed his mask, and his temper had scared her so very much. Not his face, which had been a dreadful shock, but the fact he flipped so quickly from being caught up in his music to suddenly cursing her was the signal to her something was not entirely healthy about his feelings for her.
She had not fallen in love with Raoul simply because of his attractiveness, or because he was the safer choice. His love was unconditional and steady; he never wavered from his promise to love her until he died. With Erik there had been an intensity that drew her to him, but she knew her feelings could never approach his level. He should be with someone who loved him as fiercely as he loved them. She had agonized over her choice for three long days in her bedroom, and even then she had not always been sure she had made the correct decision. However when the time came to make her vows before God, Christine had known she had made the right choice. From that day on, she did not regret her decision.
She finished reading Meg's letter then set it aside. The next two letters were bundled together, which seemed rather strange. The letter on the outside was from Madame Giry, she recognized the handwriting immediately, but the second one was on plain parchment with a seal she did not recognize, and it did not look to be from Gianna. Christine began reading the note from Madame Giry and it made her blood run cold. She could actually feel the color draining from her cheeks, but she could not stop reading.
The letter was direct and to the point: Erik was very much alive and had taken up residence in the Metropolitan Opera house. She added that he not openly revealed himself as yet and that almost no one knew of his existence. Madame Giry had received his letter from Gianna Burnside who had become his main confidante. Neither of them had any idea what the letter said, but Madame Giry said that if Christine found the prospect of bringing up the past too painful, she should return the note still sealed and she would see he received it. Christine appreciated that Madame Giry would be so concerned for her, but knowing that Erik had not perished two years ago as she had feared was a great comfort. She had felt terribly guilty with his death weighing heavily on her conscience. She owed it to him to read whatever he had to say to her.
She opened the letter gingerly and found herself smiling at the familiar script. The letter read as follows:
My dearest Christine:
Please accept my belated felicitations on the birth of your child, Philippe. I only learned of his birth recently from Madame Giry or I would have contacted you before this. But he is not my primary reason for writing to you. I know that this must be something of a shock to you, but I do not wish to cause you any alarm. You and your child have nothing to fear from me. I could never harm anything or anyone that was a part of you. I write to humbly beg your forgiveness for everything that happened two years ago. I behaved like the monster I accused myself of being. You had every right to reject me and leave with the viscomte after what I did to you both.
The memories of that night have haunted me no matter where I have gone to try to escape them. I thought that being away from Paris would lessen the pain, and to some extent it did, but I found that I missed the city dreadfully. Hence, my recent return. You have never been far from my thoughts, dear child, and I hope this missive finds you in good health.
It is my fondest wish that we renew our acquaintance, and I understand that there may be some reluctance on your part given the past. I assure you, I only want to see you so we may speak face to face for a final time. I find there are some things that cannot be said in a letter. I know that you came to Paris recently to visit Madame Giry and Meg, and I hope that you will come again when the Metropolitan gives its next performance. I am sure that husband of yours will be most amenable to the suggestion if you make it. Men never could resist you.
I should not have to tell you to guard this letter and prevent it from falling into the wrong hands. The safest course of action would be for you to burn it immediately. If you wish to reply (which I pray you do) simply send your letter to me to Madame Giry and I am certain she will see to it I receive it.
I am, as ever, your obedient servant,
Erik.
Christine found herself reading the letter over and over, hoping to discover the true meaning behind the words. It was all so civilized, and yet the tone was unmistakably Erik. It was the fact that he was asking for forgiveness that struck her deeply. Was it possible he had changed so much in the intervening years? Could he have realized how wrong he had been to try to steal her away from the world? It strained credulity to think so, but Christine sincerely believed that men were always capable of change.
What she found disturbing was that despite his promises never to hurt her or Philippe he made no such promise about Raoul. Perhaps he knew she would never have believed that he was ready to forgive him as well. That would have rung false in her ears. Still, it was clear Erik did not care for her husband, and that meant that he might yet try to take him away from her. But he had stated in his letter that his main purpose in writing was to simply renew their relationship so that they might meet a final time. Dare she believe that he had no ulterior motives? Erik always had a plan that she did not doubt.
Despite her very real misgivings, she would contact him. There was the chance that he had changed, and if that was so, she could not turn a blind eye to that. He had given to her selflessly and had not asked for anything in return for a long time. Granted what he had wanted had been something she was not capable of bestowing. But she could write to him. It was not an unreasonable request. She could not tell her husband, he would not understand. Seeing him was out of the question though, that she would tell him.
As much as she would like to begin going to Paris on a more regular basis, Raoul might be suspicious if she asked to return so quickly. Christine would do as Erik suggested and burn his letter at her nearest convenience. She did not like the idea of keeping secrets from her husband, the man she had shared her most intimate thoughts with since she had been married. He had become her lover and best friend and holding anything back from him would be difficult. He would have only to look at her with his trusting deep blue eyes and all her inner defenses would crumble.
It was only this small matter of Erik that he had never understood, and with good reason. She had once tried to explain to him the hold he had once had on her, and had been only able to shake his head in disgust. How could she have not known her Angel of Music and the Phantom were not the same person? It all seemed perfectly logical to him. She had forgiven him for his lack of understanding though. Raoul had never lost a parent. He had no idea what it meant to be alone in the world and to wish for anything to alleviate the crushing loneliness.
Hearing the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, Christine shoved Erik's letter down the front of her dress, hoping it would conceal it adequately until she could dispose of it later. A baby's giggle punctuated the steps. Raoul had to be carrying Philippe on his shoulders again. He would never learn to walk if people carried him everywhere!
Raoul's voice came strong and sure, a laugh never far behind. "How are you this fine morning, my love? Piquet tells me you received some letters from Madame Giry and Meg this morning. I trust they are well."
She replied perhaps too quickly, "I am fine, thank you. And from their letters they seem to be fine as well."
"May I read them?" he inquired. Christine usually shared their letters with him once she was finished with them.
Panic seized her. He could not read Madame Giry's letter. She had stupidly forgotten its contents were nearly as bad as Erik's. She passed Meg's letter to him, and said, "Madame Giry asked me not to show her letter to anyone. I know it's highly irregular, and in truth, there is nothing very exciting in it, but I will do as she asks because I regard her as a mother."
Raoul's mouth briefly turned down into a frown, but he nodded seemingly accepting her explanation. He passed Philippe to Christine to hold as he read Meg's letter. It was a shame he and Christine had not stayed in town longer or they would have had the opportunity to see Gianna Burnside sing a larger role. Meg's allusion to the Phantom did bother him though. He had not forgotten all he had nearly lost that night. But the man was dead, and now he and Christine had nothing left to fear. He turned to look at his wife, and her beauty never failed to stun him. Her dark curls were bathed in morning light bringing out the caramel highlights. She held their child under his arms and bounced him on her lap, her eyes and skin lit with a maternal glow and a happy smile on her face. To him, she was the most beautiful of God's creations.
"Did you receive anything from Gianna Burnside? I know you asked her to write to you."
His question caught her off guard, and she became momentarily flustered. "N—no, she did not write to me. I am not surprised though. I think the very idea of corresponding with a viscomtess was rather daunting for her. I hope she will do so in the future though."
"I hope so too. She seemed a lovely woman. And she survived what must have been a difficult childhood quite well. I found her far more interesting than all those so called ladies always asking you to tea." At this his wife laughed, but he had noticed how disturbed she was when he asked about another letter. He had only asked because Piquet had mentioned to him that the packet was fairly large, and from what he had seen, Meg and Madame Giry's letters could not have been very long. Was she hiding something from him? Why? To his knowledge she had never done that before. Nevermind, if it was important she would tell him eventually. She knew she could trust him with anything.
But as he took their child in his arms, Raoul could not help being uneasy for the first time since he had become married. Secrets were not good for a marriage.